


Sweet Relief

by serohtonin



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Young Newlyweds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-05-29 02:29:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6355291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serohtonin/pseuds/serohtonin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris can't find something that he thinks he needs and Darren offers him some help. Based on <a href="http://otpprompts.tumblr.com/post/141536252761">this</a> prompt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet Relief

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Of course I don't own anything or anyone mentioned in this fic except maybe some of the food. Contains mild language, sexual references and brief but not explicit mentions of foodplay.

_“OhmyGodohmyGodohmyGod!”_ Chris exclaims in one long stream as he runs down the stairs and into the living room. He searches under the couch, throws the decorative pillows on the floor and pulls out all the seat cushions. Then he gives the chair and loveseat the same treatment.

“Babe, I know they’re throw pillows but that doesn’t mean you literally have to throw them,” Darren jokes from where he’s standing behind the kitchen island.

“Not now, Dare. It’s an emergency.”

Darren rubs his eyes and then rests his fingers on the countertop, nearly tipping the ice cream scoop and empty bowl to the floor.

He curses under his breath and addresses his husband. “It’s three in the morning. What could you possibly need so badly?”

“What could _you_ possibly need so badly?” Chris accuses, his hands on his hips and his unstyled bangs flopping adorably in his face.

Darren shrugs and pads over to the fridge casually. “Snack attack. My body’s still on New York time. I just got back from playing a gig yesterday, remember?”

“Oh, so that's your excuse this time?” He huffs.

Darren opens the vertical freezer door, pulling out a pint of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream and holding it to his chest. Then he carefully grabs the chocolate syrup and canned whip cream from the refrigerator on the other side. He balances them as best as he can and sets them down on the kitchen island next to his bowl and scoop. 

Darren breathes out a sigh of relief, finally replying to his husband a moment later. “Um, yeah. Let’s go with that. You weren’t complaining last time I whipped out the whipped cream.” He raises his eyebrows suggestively a few times for good measure to drop the hint.

“You mean the night when we got back from our London and Ireland honeymoon? That was pretty amazing.” Chris’ mouth turns up slightly for a second as he no doubt recalls christening the kitchen with _“I love you so much and we’re finally married”_ sex when they arrived home. But he quickly schools his face into a scowl once more. “Hey! Don’t distract me at a time like this. I’m on a very important mission.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Darren’s eyebrows draw together in confusion as he stares down at his midnight munchies arsenal. “Shit! I knew I forgot something.” He turns back around to the one of the upper cabinets where they keep assorted spices, reaching on his tiptoes for the respective containers of chocolate and rainbow sprinkles.

“Do you know where Coop is?” Chris asks mysteriously instead.

“I thought he was by the foot of the bed with you. At least that’s where I left him, unless he stole my spot by now.”

Chris frowns. “He’s trained to keep your spot warm when you’re gone. He’s been doing it for years. He can’t help the habit. But no, I don’t think he’s there now.”

Darren knows Chris is more than capable of handling himself when they’re apart yet his heart still pangs at the notion of being away from his new spouse. However it does ease him when he pictures their dog offering comfort during trying times.

With that, Chris lifts their other animal, a sleeping and decidedly more bitchy Brian who suddenly comes to life and mewls angrily at the jostling.

Darren studies Chris’ movements but continues with his plans, taking four scoops of ice cream out of the pint and placing them in the bowl. 

“Again, are you going to tell me what you’re doing, Chris?” He offers while squirting the fudge onto his ice cream.

“My lucky socks,” Chris replies with a scowl.

Darren licks a stray drop of chocolate from the cap and squints at him. “What?”

“I told you not to do that,” Chris scolds, bending down to check under the coffee table. 

“That’s not what you said the same night I brought out the whipped cream and chocolate syrup. Remember when I licked both off your--?”

“I’m pretty sure I’ve mentioned my lucky socks to you before.” Chris cuts him off and strides across the expanse between them in a matter of seconds. “Can you stop for a minute and help me, please?”

Darren puts down the syrup and picks up the canister of whipped cream. “Remind me about the lucky socks again.”

“I was wearing them when I got the callback for Glee, when it got picked up for season two and the night we first kissed for real. Now do you remember?”

Darren presses his finger to the nozzle on the can, squeezing some of the substance onto his ice cream. A soft grin spreads across his face at the memory of that kiss, at their hotel after the wrap party of their concert tour. Chris had chastised him for breaking the rules of their bet by kissing him onstage. Darren quietly confessed that he had been wanting to do that for months regardless of their stupid wager. Chris’ electric blue eyes shone in the harsh light of the hallway and Darren leaned in, pressing his lips to Chris’ gently. Chris’ gaze flickered across Darren’s face when they parted and Chris asked him with a playful smirk, “Well, what have you been waiting for?”

Then they kissed some more and Chris invited him into his room. Darren realizes now how lucky he’s been that Chris has kept inviting him in ever since.

“Oh yeah,” Darren finally answers his husband’s question in the present day. “But hon, it’s three am.”

“My flight leaves in eight hours and I kind of need them. The press tour for The Land of Stories film kicks off and I want it to go well and I don’t know where Cooper is or that little thief Brian might have stashed it somewhere and I--”

Darren reacts before he can even think and squirts whipped cream into Chris’ mouth. 

“Sorry,” Darren apologizes. “I need you to shut up and listen to me.” 

Chris’ cheeks puff out and his eyes narrow but at least Darren achieves his desired outcome. 

He places his hands on Chris’ biceps and rubs them up and down in a soothing motion. “I know how important they are to you but you have time. It can wait. Things will go well with the tour because you’ve worked your ass off to make all this happen, ever since you were a kid and even more so in the last few months. You don’t need lucky socks for that. I’m fairly certain that you weren’t wearing the lucky socks on our first date or when I proposed to you but those events turned out pretty decent, right?” He smiles at Chris to emphasize his point. “Relax, babe, and take a breath after you swallow.”

Chris’ eyes shift back and forth, the anxious beginnings of crow’s feet disappearing as he ponders Darren’s encouragement. A coughing fit soon follows as he gulps the cream down. “That’s not the first time I’ve heard you say that last bit.”

Darren pats Chris’ back. “Don’t change the subject. It worked, didn’t it?”

“Hmm, maybe. It’s still a major risk. I’m taking my professional life into my hands.”

“Which is exactly what you’ve always loved doing, Chris. You’re realizing another dream. Don’t get scared on me now. Promise?”

He holds his pinky out, a gesture of secret reassurance they’ve used since before they went public and circumstances grew too difficult to bear.

Chris blinks down at it and then links his pinky with Darren’s. “Promise. Wow I love you.”

“I hope so.” Darren chuckles. “Otherwise those vows were pretty pointless.”

When Chris laughs, his nose crinkling and teeth showing, Darren notices a white speck near the corner of his mouth.

“Dear, you got a little, um--” Darren starts but leans in and licks away the whipped cream. “There. I think I have a different idea for my midnight snack now.”

“Oh yeah?” Chris murmurs, pinkies still locked with his husband.

“Are you still opposed to fudge, whipped cream or my tongue?”

“Not at all.”

Darren manages to hoist Chris onto the counter next to his surely melted treat. 

“Awesome!” Darren exclaims, ice cream, and hopefully those damn socks, all but forgotten as an even better delicacy spreads out before him.

Quelling the strange manifestation of Chris’ insecurities seems to come naturally to Darren by now, a service that he’s more than welcome to provide along with another enjoyable activity. Both are sweet and satisfying and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Well, at least until he glances down at his feet later and realizes he’s been wearing Chris’ lucky socks all along. 


End file.
